Stay
by cr0wznest
Summary: Sometimes to find yourself, you need a little help. Even if that help comes in the form of a mysterious blonde woman at a BMV.
1. Chapter 1

**authors note: **I thought of this just today and couldn't let it get away, so here it is in written form. Let me know what you think :)

I've never been to the BMV or DMV so I don't know how they work, I just made the process up and if it's how it goes then yay!

**disclaimer:** I do not own Glee or it's characters.

* * *

You're spontaneous. Most of the people you've dated couldn't keep up with your lifestyle – that's the main reason they left you. Not one of them ever left a note or text. Their only warning was an annoyed sigh the night before they sneaked out.

You wonder why you always fell for cowards. Girls would be a little more obvious – teasing at the fact that even though you're of the same sex; you share nothing in common. It was the boys that you couldn't decipher. They would treat you to expensive dinners; buy you accessories to match the new dress you bought and shower you in soft kisses you thought only devoted people give their partners. Turns out they were only devoted to making you happy for a short amount of time. You got so used to receiving the love that you barely gave it.

You understand why you're so unattainable and as a result you barely go out anymore. Picking up boys or girls at clubs has now changed into just getting drunk and ignoring any signs of flirtation.

It's not that you have given up on love all together necessarily. You have just temporarily given up on yourself… and humanity. That's probably the reason you find yourself waiting in line at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles. Everyone drives nowadays and you think that's the reason people got sick of you. But you aren't doing this for them; you're doing it for you. You haven't felt good about yourself in a long time and you still barely do.

While in line you think about what you're going to do after your test, what questions will be on your test and how you will score. You've never driven a car in your life except for that one time Quinn let you drive her Audi out of the drive way in junior year. You may have knocked over a bin or two, but overall you feel you did pretty well. You're not sure why you never went for your license at an early age but you feel it's because you hadn't found yourself yet. Coming out to your friends and family basically froze your life and you buried yourself in school work.

Tonight feels like the night though.

You think you're ready to finally take up adult responsibilities that your friends already managed too ten years ago.

"Next," a burly man calls to your left. You approach him with a sideways smile. He looks like he hates his job. He slides a clipboard across the desk towards you and you grip the pen attached to it.

You replace the 'o' in Lopez with a love heart because it's become instinctual since 3rd grade. When you hand the clipboard back to the man, he stares between you and the piece of paper with one eyebrow raised. Your lips purse into a straight line and you awkwardly step back.

"You'll be in room four when your name is called," he says in a gruff voice. You bite your lip and turn around, scanning the waiting area for an empty seat. Your eyes fall on a chair facing the window outside. There's a blonde headed woman by the unoccupied seat and you wonder if she's one of those women who grumble when a stranger sits next to them.

Your feet start moving before your brain can catch up and soon enough you're standing in front of the seat. You notice the woman lift her head from her magazine and she stares blankly at you. You're unsure if she's had a botox near her eyes or if they're just cat like naturally. Your teeth clench shut in case that comment spills from your lips. There's movement behind you and one woman stands up from her chair to walk into a room. You look to the seat then back to the one next to the blonde woman.

Your brain is racing at 80 miles an hour. It's just a chair Santana.

You awkwardly clear your throat and make your way towards the seat opposite the woman, not beside her. You find your shirt really interesting and start picking the small bits of fluff off it. It's not until you hear the smallest laugh that you realise the blonde woman had been staring at you the entire time. You slowly and subtly tilt your head up to stare at her, noticing the way her lips curve up into a smirk and the way her eyes pierce through the heading of the magazine she's yet to open.

You think you distracted her by taking an odd amount of time to choose a seat.

You're starting to wonder strange, sexual things – like if she stared at your ass when you chose the seat against the window or if she wanted you to sit down so she could whisper dirty things in your ear.

You aren't interested in her like that, but you think you could be. The way she stared at you so curiously with those crystal orbs makes you think you wouldn't mind staring at those everyone morning for the rest of your life. Are you interested now?

Once again, you take the easy way out and ignore her. You work on flattening the kinks out of your skirt until it becomes impossible without an iron. It would be pretty daft bringing an ironing board and iron to a BMV though. Ah, you're a strange girl Santana, you think to yourself.

The person beside you shifts a little and you think for a moment he's trying to subtly itch his ass. But then he stands and walks into the same room the woman who sat in your seat entered.

Your eyes travel back to the now empty seat beside you and your eyes narrow when you notice the patch of sweat or something else disgusting. Your nose twitches slightly as you attempt to smell if the damp patch is actually sweat or urine. When you get a whiff of it your face scrunches and you turn away quickly, trying to breathe in some clean air.

You hear that small laugh again. You lift your head and this time you actually want to maintain eye contact because those eyes are simply captivating.

"Hi," she whispers.

You wonder why everyone whispers in here. You think it's because there are tests going on but then you think they're behind solid walls and sound wouldn't be able to resonate through them.

Instead of answering with words, you just nod your head and keep staring into her eyes. You aren't staring too hard at her, just enough so that she knows you're interested; you just don't know where to start.

"What area are you from?"

The first thought that enters your mind is that she's being racist by asking that. But you never know; she could have asked that to a Caucasian person as well.

"Lima Height Adjacent." Your voice is barely audible but she hears you and sends you an intrigued smile.

"I'm from Lima Heights, so we're like neighbours." You find it endearing that she didn't wait for you to ask her the same question. It proves that she senses your interest. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you a counsellor? Are you counselling me?" You ask without thinking.

Her eyes narrow slightly and you can tell she's contemplating the strange question. You're spontaneous.

"What makes you think I'm a counsellor?" She asks quietly.

You weakly bite your bottom lip, a drop of sweat sliding down your left cheek. It's hot inside. This place doesn't have good air conditioning.

"You ask your questions like you're trying to get inside my head," you reply monotonously. Your tone doesn't faze her. She sinks in her chair a little and places the unopened magazine on the empty chair beside her. Her right leg crosses over the other and her eyes squint slightly. She looks even more like a counsellor now.

"Maybe I am," is her answer in a gentle, non-threatening voice.

Your expression freezes for a millisecond. You hold her gaze. Her eyes flicker to the seat beside you and before she's even up off her chair you know what she's thinking. The scent of her overwhelms you and thankfully overpowers that distasteful, unsanitary former smell.

"You're strange."

"You're stranger," she replies automatically.

"I'm a stranger?"

"No," she shakes her head, laughing softly, "you are stranger."

"How so?" You watch her eyes fall across your chest, then travel down the length of your body before meeting your eyes again. "You are the one that didn't introduce yourself. You asked me where I'm from then continued to bombard me with personal questions."

"I didn't bombard you." She replies casually, unaffected by your slight change in volume.

"You bombarded me, you attacked me," you say confidently, turning to face the people in line. They're using magazines to wave in front of their face to cool down.

"Now I attacked you?" The blonde woman gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. "I did no such thing."

"Well," you lick your lips nervously, "you start talking to me then find the need to sit next to me when I didn't invite you too."

The woman looks offended and you wish you kept your mouth shut. It's always been a struggle to lie to people. Normally it's the opposite for everyone. People lie with ease and refuse to be honest, claiming it could ruin a friendship or relationship. You find honesty to be a privilege – probably because you became sick of everyone you dated simply sauntering out without giving you an honest answer, or any answer at all.

You know from experience that being honest with people, strangers mainly, can result in either negative or positive outcomes. Everyone wants to mean something while wanting something meaningless.

You think you suit the honest bitch. You wouldn't change yourself, although you aren't sure who you are yet. You haven't met anyone like this woman. She asks you questions, she has got you thinking – wondering – about yourself and the things you've done.

You're interested; you're just unable to show it without looking like an anxious toddler.

"I haven't check my mail this month, maybe my invitation got lost," she says. You watch her from the corner of your eye. She tilts her head to look you in the eye. She wants to make you laugh.

You feel your lips curve, but quickly inhale a deep breath and sigh.

You've never really been good at showing emotion or feelings. Half your partners guessed you were suffering from a mental illness because you would say 'I like you' so distantly. You don't think you ever learnt how to express emotion because you never received it from your parents.

"That isn't my problem," you mumble.

"Are you okay?" The question catches you off guard. "Did you have a recent break up? Is that why you're struggling to communicate now?" The anxiety sets in and you contemplate walking to the restroom, locking yourself into a stall and crying. But you can't get enough of this girl. She's actually making you feel.

She's similar to you. She's blunt, possesses just the right amount of ego and knows how to connect in a certain way. You aren't sure of that 'certain way' yet, but you find it engaging.

"You're not going to stop with the strange questions are you?"

"Strange people ask strange questions," she states proudly, "I'm guessing this conversation wouldn't be as fun if we both weren't strange."

"This isn't fun," you answer bluntly and she laughs, louder this time. "You think you're making me happy right now but you aren't." You can't help but smile a little as you say that. The blonde woman is smirking at you and it makes it hard not to show a little expression.

"You are a terrible actress," she answers with a smile.

You breathe out a laugh and look down. "Well I'm glad I gave that up after high school then."

Her smile fades slightly. She inches closer to you on her chair, but you know you're safe because the arm rests keep a barrier between your bodies. Of course she could just reach over and stroke you or caress you or lick you. You shake your head and look up at the woman again.

She's staring at you with her head tilted to the side and her lips half inside her mouth. "That brings me back to my second question – what are you doing here?"

"How old are you?" You ask suddenly, changing the subject.

She doesn't flinch. "How old do you think I am?"

You pinch your lips together in thought. "Nineteen."

She makes a disappointed, breathy noise and shakes her head. "Twenty. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty eight." You notice her eyebrows rise up in surprise. You wonder why that's always the reaction with people when you tell them your age. You're aware you have the body of a sixteen year old but you're also aware of the visible lines on your forehead that were never there before.

"What are you doing here?" She goes back to the original topic.

You finally answer her. "I'm getting my license, it's about time anyway."

"No," she shakes her, "what are you doing _here_?" You frown at her immediately, unsure of what exactly is behind the slight change in tone when she said 'here'. Are you not supposed to be here? Is she a psychic that has witnessed your future and is about to tell you where you're destined to be?

"I'm…sitting." She shakes her head. "I'm talking to you."

"Is that why you're here? Did you want to catch my attention before I even saw you?" She asks with a sense of hope in her voice. You wonder what exactly she's hoping for. Does she like the attention you're giving her even if it's only a little bit?

"You just caught my eye for longer than a second," you shrug, "and I wanted to know how you would react if I sat next to you."

"But you didn't sit next to me," she says.

"Because you didn't react how I wanted you too. You made me nervous, not welcomed."

She nods slowly, turning away from you for the first time. Is she thinking about you? You're unable to receive your answer from her as a voice calls your name.

Your head whips up and you notice a woman waving you over into a room. Not the one those people beside you entered before. You don't say goodbye to the blonde woman and you don't ask her name before you walk away.

The room your test is held in is even hotter than the waiting room. The questions confuse you. You remember how you passed every test in high school by choosing each letter at least three times. But there are no letters in this test – it's online and you find yourself re-reading the first question eight times.

You're afraid if you go back out there after you finish your test the blonde woman will sense that you didn't do well and laugh. Fuck it, you think. You click random answers and the screen, subtly, for good luck. You then raise your hand, waiting for the supervisor to approach you.

Once she does, you exit the room and find that the blonde woman is gone. Your eyes scan the entire BMV, but she's nowhere. Maybe she's in a room. Maybe you can knock and tell the person in charge of that room that you never finished your conversation with the blonde.

"No," you mutter, shaking your head. You walk out of the building, determined to go home and open a bottle of wine. It helps that you live within walking distance of most bars and bottle shops so you don't have to worry about getting pulled over. You can hide your intoxication well and walk in a straight line if told to.

Your head twists to the side and you're about to turn forward again until you notice the blonde woman sitting on the hood of a green bug car. She grins at you. You're unable to see her eyes behind the dark glasses she's wearing but you're sure they're glistening.

"Need a ride?"

You take five steps forward and stare at her car for a while. As your eyes move to the hood, you're able appreciate her legs. They're creamy, long and asking to be stroked for days.

She has a smile on her face when you look up at her again. You find yourself smirking back, before walking to the passenger side of the car and settling in. You still sweat even though the air conditioner is blasting.

When she pulls up to your house, she doesn't leave the engine running. You turn to her and worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Come inside," you state. It sounds like a demand. By her smirk, you think she likes being ordered around. Not the kind of orders you receive from parents, but the kind of orders a sexy stranger gives you.

You walk a foot in front of her and pull a single key out of your pocket when you reach the door. You hate key chains. You think if you had a car then you would invest in buying lots of fancy key rings. You suddenly wonder if you should have stayed in the room to get your results instead of just walking out. It's too late now. They know your name anyway, they can look you up.

Once inside your house, you place the key on shelf near the door and walk through to the living room. This isn't the first time a woman whose name you don't know yet has been in your house.

But this is the first time you're desperate to find out.

You aren't sure what to make of the tension in the room. You predict it's sexual, because you're both clearly interested and the woman is just staring at you, unmoving as her predatory gaze locks onto you.

You try to look away but it's as if she has a magnet behind her eyes. Your lips twitch, but you don't make a sound.

She steps forward, finally. The tension however increases when she stops only an inch from you, her breasts lightly grazing against yours. "Do you want me to stay?"

Your eyes wander across her face, landing on her lips. You lick your own subconsciously. You think this could go somewhere even after you have sex with her, but you're scared. You're scared of feeling after so long. You're scared of what exactly she will make you feel. You always thought with your vagina when it came to men and women, but right now you're finally thinking with your heart.

You lean into her, noses brushing against each other's, and breathe against her lips. "Yes." You can't even swallow because your mouth is so dry. So when the blonde woman presses her lips to yours, it's awkward at first, your lips are unresponsive to her movements because you just really wanted to swallow.

She leans back and breathes out a laugh, grinning at you like she just found her favourite thing in the world. Her nose nudges your upper lip and your lips twitch into a smile. It fades quickly though when you realise how intimate this is and how she's making your heart soar. This can't happen. You just settled into loneliness and now this woman is ruining it. Her lips are so inviting.

You step back, reluctantly dismissing her advances. You told her she could stay, not that she could kiss you. She doesn't get the hint or maybe she does and she's ignoring it. You feel like she's the type of woman that does what she wants. She steps into your space again and you dodge her. She chuckles and places a hand on your waist.

You swat the hand away but she grips you tighter, pulling you into her. You close your eyes. "Stop it."

She giggles right against your mouth. "You didn't invite me in so we could just stare at each other," she whispers.

You clench your eyes shut, hiding your lips into your mouth and shake your head weakly. You know you want this, why aren't you giving in?

You give in too easily, that's why.

Wet lips applied to your cheek cause your eyes to shoot open. She grazes her lips against your jawline and you close your eyes, wrap your arms around her neck and pull her in. Your nose is crushed against her shoulder and your eyes shut tightly again. You feel her lips against your neck and you actually start to relax. You don't know what you're doing or why you're doing it.

You don't really know your life any more, you just settled.

She places light kisses along the curve of your neck and you slightly tilt your head to give her better access. You want this now. You're holding her and now you know you don't want her to stop.

You finally pull back after you feel the tip of her tongue flick against your collarbone. Your thumbs caress her jawline as you lean in and firmly connect your lips. She makes a noise and kisses you harder. Her other hand falls to the other side of your waist and squeezes. She's suffocating you, but you're enjoying every minute of it.

Her head falls to the side and you follow her lips. She opens her mouth slight wider to capture your bottom lip and you hear her make that noise again as she sucks it into her mouth.

You gasp when you pull back from the kiss, but she leans forward, taking the opportunity to slide her tongue between your lips. You frown and push her chest, causing her to stumble backwards. She's panting. Her eyes are lidded and penetrating yours. You wish you were close again; you liked seeing the blue in her eyes mix with the golden flakes surrounding her pupil. You realise you're breathing just as hard as her when you almost choke. You turn around and walk towards your bedroom, a million thoughts running around in your head. You don't know what you're doing.

Just as you make it near your bed you hear the door slam behind you and you find yourself being turned around. The blonde woman grips your arm and pulls you towards her, slamming your bodies together. Your lips smash together; forceful yet without haste. The roughness of this kiss spurs you on and you grip her shoulders, pushing her backwards until her back hits the door with a thud.

You don't feel numb any more. It's as though her touch and kiss are bringing you back to life.

She runs her fingers down your back and halts them just above your ass. You want her to touch it, you want her to touch you everywhere and anywhere she likes. When she slides her tongue into your mouth this time you don't resist. You invite it in with your own tongue, caressing the roof of her mouth and tickling her lips.

She groans, tugging on your bottom lip with her teeth. You wince and pull back to walk away. She doesn't stop you. You walk to one side of your bed, your back facing her.

You hear footsteps and when you look right, she's standing on the opposite side of the bed. You turn so you're facing her. Your fingers tug your shirt up and over your head. You're spontaneous. You pull your skirt down and watch her eyes devour your body.

She begins removing her clothes too and once you're both naked you wait a moment, your eyes lingering on the triangle of neatly trimmed blonde hair, before crawling onto the bed. She palms your lower back and lays you down on the bed. That's new. So was the staring while getting undressed. You never cared to really leer at the girl's or guy's body you were fucking. This doesn't feel like a fuck though; right now this feels real.

But you never know how you'll feel tomorrow.

For the first time you don't have the goal to solely get yourself off. You want to make this woman feel the best pleasure you have to offer.

As she hovers a few inches above you, she dares you with her eyes to make the first move. You're not sure if she wants you to kiss her. You buck your hips and rub against her thigh instead. She gasps softly and bites her bottom lip. You lean up and kiss her chin – too intimate. You bite the skin on her jaw. Better.

She makes that noise again. It's a whimper and you crave hearing it every second.

You wrap your arms around her waist. She palms the back of your neck. You kiss her softly, distracting her. You roll her on her back and her arms lock around your neck. You've never held anyone like this. She feels really good.

Your bare skin pressed against her bare skin like this feels like a drug trip. You've only been high once, but you remember it clearly. Instead of the slight tingle, your skin burns. Instead of your heart beating, it hammers. Instead of having sex with her, you make love to her.

She reminds you of an unpicked flower, blooming under the sunlight. She tightens and loosens, her petals quivering as the pads of your fingers caress their edges. Her toes curl. Her back arches like the stem of a daisy attacked by a small gust of wind.

She tastes like a pure, rare substance, unheard of in the world. She tastes like a secret – precious but dangerous.

Your lips widen to suck on her breast. Your tongue flicks rapidly against her nipple and then slides across her chest to satiate the other pink bud. Her fingers slide through your hair and pull hard, causing your lips to pop back.

She whimpers loudly when your tongue and fingers work together inside her. Her breathing becomes ragged. Her ankles lock around your back as your head bobs up and down between her legs.

Your fingers tease the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerves. She cries out in satisfaction. You pump a finger inside her again. You suck on her clit, closing your eyes to really focus and absorb her taste. Her secret drips down your lips and you lick it up, swallowing it to keep forever.

Her body deflates like a balloon that hasn't been tied yet. She stares down at you, shakes her head and laughs.

You both move to the bathroom and you run the water in the bath. She grabs the bubble bath, giggling as she pours it in the warm water. You swallow hard.

This is intimate, this is not you. Is it?

Your thoughts are interrupted when she wraps her arms around you from behind and gently kisses your shoulder. You think you're going to faint in her arms. She walks you forward and guides you into the tub. She sits down on the opposite end, her legs tangling with yours.

She grins at you with her lips, you grin back with your eyes. She moves forward to crawl on her knees towards you, causing a wave of water to fly up to your neck. "What's your name?" She asks when she's a hairs breath away.

You wonder _why now?_

"Who cares?" You breathe back before kissing her again. She doesn't fight you for an answer; not even when you stop kissing. She moistens her lips and slides her tongue along your collarbone. Her lips will definitely leave a mark.

She sucks on your skin. She bites on the thin skin on the curve of your neck. She even kisses the skin above your armpit.

She straddles you and you gently grab her thighs. You flinch when you feel her hand palm your sex. You know how wet you are but you're unsure if she knows seeing as you're in water.

The tips of her fingers rub fast against your clit, applying just the right amount of pleasure. She slides her fingers down until they're hovering over your entrance. She looks up at you, desperate to catch your gaze – too intimate.

Her fingers learn your secret within ten minutes. She pumps them so hard that you don't know whether your legs are still connected to your body. You feel her float backwards and you wonder what she's thinking. You watch her slowly sink underwater and just before her head fully disappears, she winks.

Your breath hitches and you grab the sides of the tub when you feel her tongue press against her clit.

You wonder how long she can hold her breath.

One minute, twenty six seconds.

She gasps when she resurfaces. You pull her towards you and suck her tongue into your mouth. You whimper into the kiss and don't even care that you're both moving so violently in the tub that water is spilling over the edge onto the tiles.

You're glad you invited her inside.

/

Tomorrow you feel different. You knew it. You can't feel, even though you felt more last night than you have in your entire life.

You shared secrets with her.

The sheet on your bed is half covering her body and you stare at her for a while, adoring the curve of her back. You're not a morning person, especially when there's another person in your bed. No matter how beautiful she is, you need her to get out.

You slide out of bed and wrap a dressing gown around your body. You walk into the living room and pick up a pen and notepad from the table. You kneel down and start writing.

/

You're halfway to work and don't know if she's found the note yet. You don't even know her name so you had to just start the letter with 'hi'.

/

You don't expect a note when you get home, resting exactly where you left yours. You sit on the sofa and read over what it says.

_Hello, _

_I really thought I meant more than one night. You could have been a little nicer in your letter instead of just telling me to get dressed and leave. You're weird, but I forgive weird. _

_p.s I stole your box of crackers._

You find yourself smiling. You don't know how you could be so mean to this woman. Then you remember you don't feel, especially alone in your house like this.

/

One week passes. You go about your normal routine. You haven't had sex in a week, you don't want too. You desperately want to meet people, but you only find that you can do that in clubs or bars and those people always want one thing.

You think you'll feel tainted in a way if you give yourself to someone else like you gave to her.

You have the day off. You jog to a café in Lima Heights, enjoying the breeze caressing your skin. You enjoyed her fingers more.

You shake your head and wipe the sweat off your upper lip while entering the café. The bell on top of the door rings, capturing the woman behind the counters attention. She grins at you and you send her a half smile.

You haven't smiled fully at someone in years.

She knows what you order; you've been coming here recently.

When you turn your head to find an empty booth, your heart ceases to beat. You stare at the back of the blonde woman's head and feel something click in your brain. You want intimate – with her.

This is no coincidence. You're a firm believer in fate.

You weave through the tables and stand by her booth, waiting for her head to lift her head from the newspaper in front of her. Her gaze flickers forward and slowly her head lifts, a smile forming on her face when she sees you.

Your breathing has picked up; you aren't sure if this is what you want to do. You know it's something you need to do though, in order to let people into your life again – especially people like her.

"When I was 19 I decided to visit a psychiatrist without anyone knowing. I'm spontaneous. She diagnosed me with anxiety and depression. I take 150 milligrams of Doxipen a day, no more, no less. That's an anti-depressant, because I'm depressed and I don't even know why. I get anxious over little things even when they don't involve me. I have moments where my body shuts down – more often than not. I don't like meeting families and if we were to date and I would meet yours I don't think I would speak or even make it passed the front door. I think people go through things like this to see what they're really made of. I haven't been seriously injured on the surface but inside I'm like a ticking time bomb. I have money, but I spend it on medication and food and if I get my license I'm going to have pay for a car and petrol and fixing it when it breaks down. I'm a lot like a car, I can work for a long time and then I'll break down when you least expect it. Nobody can handle me. _I_ don't know how to handle me," you stretch your hand out. "I'm Santana by the way."

The woman frowns and slides out of the booth, studying you closely. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. You're thankful there are only a few people in this café and they're all at the other end.

When the blonde woman is standing close to you, you feel her fingers tangle with yours. She smiles.

"Who cares? You're perfect to me." She leans in and gently presses her lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut just as she pulls back and you follow her with a grin on your lips. "I'm Brittany by the way."

"It's very nice to finally meet you Brittany," you whisper back.

* * *

edit: I mixed up the point of view so here it is hopefully all correct.

also I'm going to be writing two more chapters for this, not for a while though, hope to hear from you.


	2. Chapter 2

**authors note: **I just wanted to explored this type of writing mostly for myself because I enjoy angst and what it leads too. Enjoy and review if you can :)

* * *

You're only a morning person when there is something important to do. Brittany, however, is the opposite. She woke you up by blowing in your ear and you almost sent her into a coma with your backhand. After she giggled and hopped out of bed she informed you of the time and you almost choked up your own organs.

Nobody with knowledge of the world wakes up at a time like this, let alone goes outside.

You've been dating Brittany for two months now and she's not one of those people that will only act nice if they want something – Brittany is always nice. You wish she wasn't because your attitude is the opposite. You've learnt how little in common you both have and you've told the blonde this multiple times but she kept repeating that people with nothing in common often learn to love each other faster.

Apparently if you have so much in common the love will die quicker. You'll go through the relationship with nothing to talk about because you both already know all about the topic. You've never had a relationship like this at all.

Brittany likes sleepovers. You enjoy when you and Brittany cuddle in bed because she's the big spoon and she can't see your face. You don't know why but it really hurts when she fingers you. It hurts when you finger yourself. You think it's just one of those problems all girls have and it will eventually get better. You don't want to tell Brittany about it because she'll try and make everything so positive. You just want to be depressed about something for once since becoming her girlfriend.

"I'm catching up with my high school friends today so that will go for a couple hours."

"Why did you wake me up then?"

"What?" Brittany freezes with a shirt in her hands.

You sigh and push yourself up to sitting position on the bed. "You woke me up, yet you're the one going out."

Brittany shrugs, then pulls of her shirt and replaces it with a new one. You stare at her for about ten seconds because she has the best body you've ever seen – not that you've seen a lot of female bodies. You think that's why you're sick of this relationship already. You dove in because she was beautiful, still is, and she was some-what interested in you.

You even told her about your medication – how fucked up is that?

The first few days of your relationship she actually observed you taking your anti-anxiety tablets before going to bed. She wanted to see what they looked like and if they could get lodged in your throat. She's cute when she's protective, but you wish she would relax a little.

You know she won't get angry if you're honest.

"I'm going to be here all day," you murmur. She smiles at you and rests her palms either side of your waist, leaning forward to give you a light kiss. Your head is instantly ten times heavier and you fall backwards, secretly hoping she follows you.

But she doesn't. Brittany has a social life and you do not. That's entirely your fault.

You decide since you're already awake that you'll walk her out. Girlfriend's do that, you're sure of it. Or maybe you're mistaking your relationship for a marriage but you quickly clear your throat when Brittany turns to you in front of the door.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," you reply monotonously.

"Well don't get into trouble," she jokes.

"That's something my mom would say, why are you saying it?" Your words dissolve the smile on Brittany's lips and she avoids your gaze.

"Um," she clears her throat, "you should take your pills…"

"Why?" You say louder this time. "So I can act more like you? What if this is the real me? Are you saying you can't handle me?"

"Santana, that's not what I'm saying at all. God," she groans, "I hate when you have your mood swings."

"I got banned from playgrounds when I was eight," you stutter out, nipping at your fingernails. Brittany rolls her eyes and you know she's had enough of _this_ you.

"Maybe you should come with me…"

You know that she's asking you this as a safety precaution, not an invitation to meet her friends. You shake your head immediately, stepping backwards until you hit the sofa.

"You go. I'll be here waiting until you get back."

"You're not well are you?"

"I'm not happy!" You suddenly yell. Brittany's face pales completely and she lets her purse slide through her fingers. It doesn't make it to the floor though because she grips it to her chest and pouts.

"Why aren't you happy with me?" She asks weakly.

"I don't know you," you answer honestly, "maybe it's because you've given me a little confidence and I feel like if I'm with you nobody else will be able to witness it."

"Are you saying you want to see other people? After two months you're telling me this?" Brittany uses her knuckles to wipe under her eyes and you hate that she's crying. You didn't mean to be so brutally honest but you can't live like this.

Brittany made you happy but you're not sure if she's the one.

You find yourself nodding at her question and she reacts by stomping towards the bedroom and grabbing a large bag. You follow her and watch as she packs most of her clothes. "I'll stay a friend's place until you've figured out what it is you want."

"I make quick decisions and I hate it," you yell through clenched teeth. You're starting to cry because Brittany is the best thing that's ever happened to you and you don't want her to leave, not like this.

"That's not my problem anymore," she replies coldly.

"Please stay," you beg, chasing her to the door. She gasps when you grab her bag and slam it on the floor and wrap your arms around her body. She places her palms on your shoulders, her fingers curling onto your shirt so you're closer.

"Stop changing your mind," she whispers, "do you want me or not?" You know you gave your heart to Brittany in that café two months ago, you might have even let her take it in the BMV. But your more of a 'follow your head' person, because you're afraid that if you don't you'll lose your mind completely.

She feels your arms loosen around her and you slowly pick up her bag and hand it to her. She sniffles and shoves past you out of your apartment and most likely out of your life. But you'll call her, because if you find 'the one' you'll need your heart back.

/

It's been three days since your 'unofficial break up' with Brittany and your head is feeling a little clearer without her in it all. You feel bad for thinking it, but you really don't like living with a lie floating around in your head – even if it's a small one – because no one deserves to be lied too, especially not Brittany. You don't think you've ever craved someone as much.

There was a reason you told her everything. But maybe that was just meant to start your friendship, not a relationship. You'll keep denying it, maybe until you find someone else.

You've decided to hit the gym before going out to a club – alone of course. You're one of those rare people that don't care if she has to do things alone. You saw Despicable Me in the cinemas alone and you should have waited for the DVD to watch it in the privacy of your home because you sobbed like a baby half way through.

Once your bag is safely away in your usual locker, you head out towards the treadmills. Blonde hair catches your eye immediately as you weave through the machines. It's Brittany. She's panting as she runs and you're panting as you walk closer towards her. But you dart left at the last minute and pick a machine a row in front of her to her right.

You have no idea if she's noticed you yet, but you hope so. Actually you hope she didn't see you practically ripping her gym gear off with your eyes. She seemed pretty concentrated.

"Hey Santana." Crap.

"Hi," you reply softly. You don't look at her or even acknowledge her after that. Your fingers tap away at the machine to start it.

"How have you been?" She asks breathlessly. You really want to look at her, you can imagine the amount of sweat collecting between her cleavage and you pinch your thighs together which results in an awkward waddle on the machine.

"Today, yesterday, or the day before? Because I haven't seen you in three days and I've felt different every day since."

"Different?" She questions, moving towards the front of your machine so you really have no choice but to look at her. She's wiping the sweat from her upper lip and resting her forearms on the front of the treadmill.

"Well you can never stay the same all the time," you explain through heavy breaths.

"Couldn't you have felt different but still been with me?" The blonde girl is pouting a little and you quickly avert your gaze to the ceiling.

"No, I want to experience other women, I'm sorry." You wish you weren't so blunt.

"You could have done that before me?"

"Well I did already, but I'm doing it after you," you breathe, "there's no difference. I may come back to you."

"I'm not waiting for you," Brittany scoffs, "you're so full of yourself Santana, fuck you." Brittany's tone has your panties soaking by the second. Her lips curled into a snarl and she's cocking her hip to the side, waiting for you to challenge her.

"I'm not," you reply firmly, "I'm just not into you right now."

"So I just have to wait until you are?" Brittany answers a little louder. You roll your eyes and shrug as an answer because you really just want to work out and leave. There are so many other women you could be flirting with right now, not that you're much of a flirter. It sounds more like a police questioning when you attempt to flirt.

"You're a bitch," Brittany mutters, walking off. You watch the sway of her hips and internally smirk at the feisty side of the blonde you just witnessed. It was extremely sexy and you can't let Brittany walk away this angrily without getting something out of it.

It's wrong to want to fuck someone just because they look hot angry, but you're a wrong human being and there's something about Brittany that makes everything right – even if it's for five minutes.

You turn the machine off and jog after her. She swings open the change room door and when she hears footsteps behind her, she turns to you wearily. "What?"

"You're angry."

"No shit, maybe if you weren't such a bitch to me when I've done nothing wrong then I would be a little happy."

"I'm sorry." You're not, she looks so sexy right now and you're definitely not sorry. "You know my personality; we did date for two months."

"It felt like I was dating a zombie," Brittany replies with a smirk.

"Well it felt like I was dating my mother," you reply and cringe instantly at the thought. Brittany lets out a sharp laugh and turns away from you. She unzips a bag and starts pulling out casual clothes to change into.

"You really aren't a relationship person," she murmurs.

"I am so," you object and it sounds like a whine, "just not with you."

"Ouch," Brittany feigns hurt, "if you thought I was just some easy dumb blonde that would put up with your shit then you were wrong." She faces you now and takes her tank top off to reveal a sports bra. Your eyes fall to her chest and widen as she removes the sports bra leaving her top half completely bare.

You think she's doing this either because you've seen her naked many times before or because she's making it easier for you to fuck her right her right now.

You want to madden her more though. You step forward and smirk. "You put up with my shit for two months. You obviously thought I was doing something right."

"Fuck you Santana," she hisses, poking your chest. You frown and grab her hand before she can pull it back. She wiggles her arm, trying to break free but you're too strong. She stares at you with a strong gaze that pierces your skull and your senses go numb as you bring her closer.

You rip the shirt out of her hands and then lean in to kiss her hard. She releases a groan in frustration and pushes you back. It's not fair; you broke up with her and now you're fucking her in a change room at a gym.

You're numb however, so you probably won't even feel your orgasm if Brittany decides to give in. You wrap your hands around her forearms and lift them above her head. You make her sit on top of you so you're level with her breasts and you suck each of them in your mouth while staring into your eyes.

She doesn't object because you know how sensitive Brittany's nipples are. They're perky and pink and feel perfect against your tongue. You growl against her breasts, popping it in and out of your mouth until Brittany's panting heavier than she did on the treadmill.

You slide your hands down her arms, to her shoulders, down to her back and then finally her ass. She whimpers as you pull her down onto you properly. Your lips continue attacking her breasts, leaving light purple marks across her chest. Brittany is enjoying this more than she wants too. You know this because once you released her arms she didn't try to fight you.

"Ugh Santana," she moans your name. Her pussy rubs up your bare thigh and you think if she wasn't wearing mini bike shorts then you would have a waterfall running down your leg.

"Mm," you moan, pulling back from her breasts and leaning back against the dividing wall in the centre of the bench. Your mouth is open wide and your tongue is hanging out slightly as you watch Brittany bite her lip and scrunch her face every time her sex tingles against your skin.

Anyone could walk in, but you're not the type of person to shy away from public displays of affection – even if this is a lot further than normal.

Brittany rides you fast and hard, with her knees rubbing against the bench and her hands clawing at your shirt. "Why don't you want me…" The blonde breathes out suddenly. You frown, watching her face carefully in case you spot any tears.

You notice how hurt and broken and fragile she sounds and you realise that is all because of you. You can't do this to her. You hate yourself. Brittany pumps her pussy faster against you and you grab her hips to stop her or at least slow her down.

"Stop," you say firmly.

"Fuck you," Brittany whimpers, slumping forward so her heads on your shoulder. You close your eyes and breathe her in. You love Brittany's distinct smell. You love her soft skin so you run your fingers up and down her back.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. This time you are sorry.

She doesn't object when you carefully move her off you. You stand up and watch her sniffle into her hands and even though you spent two months with her you never witnessed her cry. Maybe that's because she was with you and now that she's not she cries.

You shake your head and mumble that you're sorry once more then walk out.

/

You have a few minutes until your cab gets here. You decide to pour yourself a glass of wine, because pre-drinking alone never hurt anybody.

Earlier you tried calling Brittany to make sure she was okay but you realised that you're the last person she would want to talk too. You waited for her to answer anyway and when she did, all that came out of her mouth was 'fuck off'.

You're over it. You're over the fact that you and Brittany are over and tonight you're going to find a hook up, maybe bring her home and let her do things to you that Brittany's done. You don't want to compare Brittany to anyone, you just want to see if anyone can compare to her.

You did your heel into the carpet and give yourself a once over before heading out onto the street. A cab pulls up on the curb and you sit in the back seat. You have nothing against cab drivers, you just feel like you're invading their personal space if you sit in the front with them. You give the cab driver directions to a club that is about 15 minutes away. You want to drink tonight, but you want to be coherent during your hook ups so that you'll be able to figure out if you made a mistake with dumping Brittany.

You're still thinking about her; that must mean something. There's a voice in your head that's telling you to forget her, because you're over her and when you're over someone you don't constantly think about them.

Maybe you aren't over Brittany.

Yes, yes you are.

Your hand grips the arm on the door and you feel the pressure build in your sharp white painted nails. You never used to paint your nails, but Brittany's were so nice you decided to let her do yours.

You shake your head violently and you're certain the cab driver thinks you're having a fit.

"Sorry," you breathe.

"No problem," he replies with a chuckle. You clear your throat and duck your head slightly so he can't see you through his rear view mirror. Your eyes flicker to each of the lamps on the sidewalk outside as you drive passed them. Your window is down a few inches; you must have accidentally pressed something on the door.

There's wind blasting into the car and you're lucky your hair is up. The cab slows down as it turns a corner and comes to a complete stop. You pay the driver, once again apologizing for your odd behaviour. He ignores you this time. You think it's because he believes you're just drunk.

You walk straight into the club, not because you're known by the security guards, just because you fucking want too. Thankfully no one stops you and you make your way to the bar. There's a woman tending to you right away and send her your best smirk.

You don't know what your best smirk looks like, only what her reaction is and you think you've done a good job.

"Coming right up," she says with a wink after you order a beer. Wine, now beer – they are two drinks you're ready to explore tonight. Normally you'd go for some spirits while out on the town, but you feel that everything is changing around you and you're being forced to change with it.

When the woman slides your drink over the counter, you allow your fingers to linger over hers as you take it. She stares at you with curious blue eyes and you lean forward. "When do you get off?"

"Straight to the point," she answers laughing.

"There's nothing straight about me," you respond because that's the first thing that pops into your head and you regret it because that was lame. But the woman doesn't point that out, she instead leans forward and kisses your lips lightly.

"I shouldn't do things like that in the middle of a shift," she whispers. Your eyelids droop so you're only able to see her from her nose down.

"Let's take it a step further," you suggest softly. She shakes her head and leans back. She tells you her shift ends at 3 but you groan and take a sip of your drink. You don't know if you're desperate for her or if you're desperate to compare her to Brittany.

The thought makes you drink faster and soon enough you're ordering another drink and throwing it down before heading to the dance floor.

It takes about 11 seconds before women start to flock to you. They grind every each of your body, sliding their hands up your thighs to get you turned on. You stare up at the ceiling the entire time, because none of this is really turning you on.

Just find one and go. There are several options for privacy in the club. You think you'd rather go to your apartment though. Wait, but you and Brittany had sex in the bed in your room and you're not ready to bring a new girl back there.

You swallow hard and target one girl dancing beside you. You don't bother about anyone else; this girl looks nothing like Brittany and you grin internally. The girl notices the intent in your eyes and she reaches out to grab your hand. You share a smirk and waste no time in grinding up against her front. She brings a hand up to your chest and places her palm in between your boobs. You bite your lip and lean forward so you can't see her face anymore.

Your chin bumps against her shoulder as the music picks up. She slips a leg between yours and you gasp loudly. Her giggle makes you angry, because you don't want her to feel good. You don't know what's going on. You're angry all of a sudden. You lean back and grab her hand, pulling her through the crowd. You spot the bathroom door a few feet away and lick your dry lips in anticipation.

There's someone blocking your path though suddenly. Not just a stranger though, Brittany. She's got her arms around some blonde girl and they're messily hooking up. You're frozen in front of them and the girl whose hand you're holding asks if you're okay.

But your answer never escapes your lips, because Brittany pulls back from the girl, grins at her and then turns her head, catching your gaze.

Her eyes widen in a moment of surprise as she looks between you and girl whose hand you're now only loosely holding. You watch Brittany's throat move and you're sure she swallowed really hard even though you can't hear it over the music. The girl up against Brittany squeezes her ass which regains the blonde's attention.

You take this opportunity to escape.

Once you're in the bathroom you kick open a cubicle door and press the random girl whose hand has gotten very sweaty, up against the wall. You kiss everywhere but her lips, leaving wet trails down her neck and across her chest and along her collarbone. You leave red marks against her throat.

You hurt her with your teeth and even her painful moans don't stop you. Your hands reach under her skirt and practically rip her underwear off. She whimpers and pushes up into your fingers as you slide two of them into her.

Nothing is slowed down. You're pumping so fast inside of her you feel like you could lose your fingers. Your chests bump together and everything about this situation is disgusting to you. You never do this kind of thing; but everything is changing.

It's normally the other person who sneaks out on you, but you want them to know how it feels. Maybe that's why you let Brittany go so easily. But she never gave you any signs that she was going to leave you.

This woman you have against a wall right now is breathing so hard that you think she may collapse at any moment. You romanticize this situation in your head because nothing feels good for you. You don't want anyone here to touch you anymore, because Brittany is pure and she gave you her purity for two months and no one here will take that away from you.

You clench your eyes shut tight. Your fingers pump harder until the woman is screaming. You think about doing the bartender next, but realise how empty you feel already. You can't imagine doing this every weekend. You want one person, for the rest of your life.

Brittany…

When the woman's legs give out, you don't make a move to hold her up. You just remove your fingers and wipe them against her dress. As she slides down the wall, her breathing the only sound in the small stall, you slam your palms against the side of your head. Something is rising in your throat and you dry heave twice before running out into the stall at the end of the bathroom.

You're thankful you tied your hair up.

What exits your throat is mostly water and saliva but it still looks disgusting. The sound of it leaving your body is what makes you vomit more. The thought of just fucking a girl that wasn't Brittany in a club bathroom makes you throw up again. The thought of fucking Brittany anywhere but in a bed, cosy and warm underneath the sheets – protected by each other's bodies – causes you to choke. You slam your fists on the toilet bowl, cringing as the remaining liquid leaves your mouth.

You breathe in heavily and then sit against the wall, with your legs bent and your head buried in your hands. It feels like you've cheated.

You've needed Brittany since before you even met her.

/

A month has passed since you saw Brittany at the club. You got to know the bartender and you've been unofficially dating for about three weeks. You both prefer not to label your situation and it makes everything a lot easier.

Her name is Belle and she has burn on her hip from when she was a kid. You kind of adore it.

But Belle does not seem interested in you – especially when you stop her halfway through foreplay because she tries to lead you to your bedroom. You're aware how much of an affect Brittany has had on you but you'll remain in denial until you can fix yourself.

Because if though you thought you were okay, you weren't. You were definitely not okay to start dating when you decided to give yourself to Brittany and until you are, you'll have meaningless sex with Belle and not date her officially.

She's planning to take you to a restaurant tonight. You've asked her what you should wear but she grumbled back at you, stating that she wasn't your mother. You told her to fuck off.

Once you've poured yourself a glass a wine, you feel a little better about your outfit. Belle exits the bathroom and notices you sitting alone at the table. "Did you think of pouring me one?" She asks loudly.

"Nope," you reply without looking at her. She groans and walks forward, tearing the glass from your hand and gulping it down. "You're good at that, is it because you're a bartender?"

"Shut up Santana," she breathes.

"Fuck off." You roll your eyes and follow her out of the door to her car. "You shouldn't drive."

"I had one glass," she replies annoyed.

"My glass," you mumble under your breath.

It takes fifteen minutes to convince Belle to get into the cab that's stopped outside, under ten minutes to get there and four minutes waiting for a person to seat you. You scan the restaurant when you sit at your table, not bothering to thank the waiter as he places a menu down in front of you.

You blink furiously as you see the woman haunting your mind sitting a few tables away with a man.

"Fuck," you mutter, ducking your head and vaguely scanning your menu. Belle calls the waiter over again and orders a bottle of water, while you splutter out the name of a soft drink. Belle rolls her eyes, as though you're some child and you lean back in your chair.

"I'm getting the pasta," she announces flatly.

"Why did you suggest we go to dinner if you're just going to be a fucking bitch all night?" You ask without thinking.

Belle's jaw drops. You didn't realise how loud you were talking, but as your eyes dart around the room, you spot Brittany staring straight back at you with her bottom lip between her teeth.

You close your eyes and breathe in deeply, waiting for the snarky response about to leave Belle's lips. "You're a joke," she scoffs.

"Then why are you doing this with me? Whatever this is," you reply more aggressively than before.

"Because I pity you," she says calmly, "I saw all the meds in your bathroom cupboard. What are you depressed? Like the majority of teenagers in the world."

"Shut the fuck up Belle," you hiss.

"You take all those meds and you still act like you're a recovering addict," she quips, leaning forward slightly over the table. You want to hit her, knock her the fuck out. But your hands aren't moving and your jaw feels numb because you're tightening it so much.

Belle makes a move to get up from the table and stares down at you like a child that's about to get a beating. You're not spontaneous anymore. You lost the spark that made you, you when you lost Brittany.

You fucking hate yourself. You hate your lips that Brittany loved to bite on, you hate your arms that would wrap around Brittany's slim waist securely and you hate your hair that Brittany loved to play with.

A stray tear falls down your cheek because you're overwhelmed with emotion you've never felt before. Belle breathes out a laugh and folds her arms.

"You're a lonely fuck up…"

"Hey!" Brittany interjects. She's standing a foot away from Belle with an expression that could kill. Belle frowns and walks up to Brittany with a confident smirk.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Brittany doesn't answer though. She walks over to you, kneels down so she can look you in the eyes and whispers softly. "Are you alright Santana?"

You don't realise how much you've missed your name on her lips.

But you're embarrassed and you can't look at her for more than a second. You feel as though you're about to throw up and you suspect it's because you hate Brittany seeing you with other women.

You suddenly wonder who the guy she's having dinner with is.

You sniffle loudly and place your right hand over your eyes so Brittany can't see the tears. You hear tapping and when you open your fingers slightly you can see Belle's foot tapping away on the floor. She's growing impatient and as much as you don't give a shit right now, you don't want to be around Brittany anymore.

You're wrong for her. You might not ever be right for anyone.

"Hurry up," Belle mutters as the two of you walk out of the restaurant. You're about to open the cab door when you hear your name being called.

You turn around and witness Brittany jogging towards you. "Hi," she breathes.

"Hello." You find yourself smiling through the tears hanging off your lips. Brittany smiles back and reaches out to wipe some tears off your cheek but you flinch and step back. She smiles sadly at you and you wish there was something that could make her smile turn happy because there's no point in smiling if it's not for a good reason.

"Let's just go," Belle says from inside the cab. She's sitting in the front seat and you smirk as the cab drives off.

You turn back to Brittany and see her giving you a curious look. "I don't trust people who sit in the front seat of cabs."

"Okay," Brittany murmurs, bobbing her head up and down. "Well I got to go back inside."

"But you called my name and you said hi, which is normally the start of a conversation so what did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, I just wanted to see you for more than a glimpse."

"But people look at photographs don't they? When they end a relationship and they have a picture of their ex, they stare at it because they want to see a glimpse of the person they loved once," you step forward, "the person they still love."

Brittany clears her throat and steps back. "I don't have any photos of you. You never wanted to take pictures."

"Take a picture of me now," you almost plead.

"Santana," Brittany shakes her head and turns around. "I'm going, I'll see you around." You watch Brittany walk back into the restaurant and continue to wonder about the guy she was sitting with. Brittany is a lesbian, so it couldn't be anything romantic. You want to get to know him if he's related to Brittany.

You've never wanted to know any family member, you've told Brittany that.

She got used to your habits that no one else understood. You need her back and you're going to get better so you can have her again.


	3. Chapter 3

**authors note: **so sorry for the long wait, enjoy the final chapter (no epilogue).

p.s sorry for the errors in this, I'm sure there are some.

* * *

You feel the rain before you've stepped outside. You have been feeling a lot before it has happened lately. Your friendship with Brittany isn't satisfying, because you wish it were more. You aren't desperately begging outside her apartment, which she moved into after you kicked her out, so you're proud of yourself. However, not having your spontaneity anymore has made you less of an energetic, free spirit. When you're walking down the street you tend to stare at your feet rather than observe the people passing you.

There's a different smell in the air today and it's not just because of the rain pelting down on your head. The air smells a little more fresh which instantly makes you feel fresh. You're aware that Brittany smells fresh every day and this morning is no exception. She's waiting for you at your normal table in the café where you confessed your feelings and issues. You were surprised when she asked you here after you spoke last, outside that restaurant. The man she was with is still a mystery to you because neither of you have brought him up. You also haven't seen him around at all with Brittany and that's definitely a good thing. Although, you suppose you would be happy for the blonde if she was happy with someone else.

Perhaps there's absolutely nothing to worry about, but you still want to hear it from Brittany. So when you walk up to her booth, you sit opposite her and notice the way her eyes flicker curiously from the menu to you. "Who was the guy you were with at that restaurant a couple weeks ago?"

"Sam?" You shrug because you don't really think he looks like a Sam. "He's my brother. He was visiting for a week and we caught up. He went back to Cleveland already," she pinches her lips together, "I wish you could have met him."

"Why?" Your lips curl up a little.

"Actually never mind," she shakes her head, "you said you didn't want to meet my family anyway."

"I would," you reply instantly, then gulp loudly and gesture for a waiter to come over. He takes your order of a burger and a milkshake, while Brittany just gets a coffee and sandwich. You feel like a slob compared to her, even though you both look like you weigh the same. She has more muscle than you though and you like it that way.

Now that the thought of her strength is running through your mind, you can't help but fall into a trance as you stare all over her face. You imagine her picking you up and throwing you down onto a bed. Fuck. You wish you never broke up with her in the first place. But then you may have been unhappy with her for even longer and never truly realised that she was better for you than anyone.

"I'm meant to be visiting my parents next weekend for my dad's birthday, you could join me?" There's hopefulness in the blonde's tone, but it isn't forceful and that's what makes you nod happily. Inside your head you're dreading adult conversation, but there has to come a point where you grow up and take a chance. This is that time. You can't say no and let Brittany go again.

"It would be a fun road trip," you comment, staring outside the window into the distance, picturing the music blasting in Brittany's car. Oh yeah. Brittany passed her driver's test and you didn't. You haven't told anyone, but because Brittany never sees you drive anywhere you're sure she's figured it out.

Brittany nods and then stretches her hands out in front of her, placing them both on the table. One of them is close to your hand, her fingers lightly tapping against the wood. "Ladies," the waiter breaks you both from whatever trance you were caught in and places your food and drinks down. You look up for a moment and notice the boy smirking towards you. He clasps his hands together and lingers a moment. You think he's waiting for you to try the food, but you're not entirely sure because his smirk hasn't disappeared and his eyes travel lower to your chest.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" You wonder why he isn't asking Brittany this in a flirtatious tone, or at all. Brittany is so much prettier than you, you think. To you she's like this angel that was sent to put all other women to shame. You wonder why she even liked you and dated you.

"No," you reply softly. You feel really uncomfortable as you lean forward and sip on your milkshake through the straw.

"Um, I was just wondering, if you weren't doing anything later," he mumbles, "my shift finishes in an hour and we could hang out?"

Your eyes bulge and you quickly swallow your drink. You want to be blunt and tell this guy to back off because the love of your life is sitting right in front of you. But said girl in front of you beats you to it.

"Babe, try this," Brittany grins and rips the corner of her sandwich, stretching her arm out so her hand is hovering in front of your mouth. You realise what she's doing and you smile shyly back at her and part your lips, taking the small portion into your mouth. You moan in satiation and watch as Brittany's fingers trail down your arm and settle on top of your hand. You swallow and watch Brittany smile so lovingly at you that you forget you're in public and slowly lean forward. You're chewing at your bottom lip while staring at Brittany's lips and notice the slight movement Brittany's making.

Your eyes flutter shut when you're about an inch away from the blonde and in less than two seconds your lips are moulding together. You hear the faint sound of the waiter mumbling something inappropriate before there are footsteps and he's gone. You're so surprised that Brittany is kissing you back, because you are just friends and you haven't talked about getting back together at all. You know that she knows you want too, and now you're positive she wants too as well.

You slowly close your lips over Brittany's bottom one and tug lightly. She releases a moan and pulls back, smiling shyly and brushing her knuckles across her nose.

"Sorry," you say suddenly.

Brittany giggles and rolls her eyes. "No you aren't."

You grin at her. "I'm not," you shake your head and laugh along with her.

You both continue eating your meal, occasionally feeding each other when that waiter guy looks in your direction. Brittany brings out the carefree side of you that you never knew existed and you treasure moments like these. Once you're both finished, you hesitate to hold Brittany's hand and when you try she speeds up her steps a little but you don't think it's because of you. She stretches her arms and opens her mouth towards the sky to catch the rain drops. You watch her from under shelter and feel overwhelmed.

You feel as though this is too much of an intimate moment to be staring, but you can't help it.

* * *

You slept through your alarm and groggily walk into your bathroom when you can finally be bothered. You stare at yourself in the mirror, ready to punish yourself. But you can't, you can clench your fists anymore because your hands aren't made to cause harm to yourself, they're made to hold Brittany's.

Brittany Pierce – the girl that is going to be furious with you. You told her you would meet her at the gym an hour ago and you slept through your fucking alarm. You want to make it up to her and you text her asking what she is doing later this evening. She responds with 'nothing, why?' and you tell her to come over to your apartment. The apartment she hasn't been to since you broke her heart. You like to say you broke her heart because it makes you feel better. It makes you believe she was so in love with you.

It also makes you feel like absolute crap of course.

You're completely unsure of what you want to do tonight with Brittany. Maybe you could cook for her or settle for takeout because you're not sure she would like anything you make. You're becoming anxious. Brittany dated you and would never say something to intentionally hurt your feelings. But you remember that day at the gym and you really pushed her buttons. It was a turn on seeing Brittany so full of rage, but you never again want to be the source of that rage. All you want to make her feel is happiness and pleasure.

You're very reluctant to dress up tonight, as you are every day, but impressing Brittany is the only thing on your mind. You want her to lust over you, like she probably did in the first few weeks in your relationship. It's almost like you want to replay your entire relationship just so you can fall in love with her all over again and do it right this time.

You have hours to think of what you're going to do and the things you're going to say. Maybe you could ask Brittany questions and learn even more about her. You think you've learnt all there is to know, but there is always one thing a person never tells. Maybe tonight you'll be able to get her to reveal something to you. Your palms rub together as you stand in your bedroom again, looking out your window towards old buildings outside. It's strange how you never saw their real beauty before. How only now you're just realising how different the world looks when you simply just open your eyes and observe. You think it has something to do with Brittany. Being with her makes you forget what's going on with you. You're positive you're getting better and you can't wait to be good again.

You decide, after an hour, that you're going to call Brittany and ask her what she would like to do tonight.

She answers after two rings and sounds completely out of breath. "What's up?"

"Why are you panting?" You ask with a frown that she can probably picture through the phone. You hear her let out a big breath and giggle.

"I just finished working out, why is it turning you on?" Her tone is playful, but you're aware friends do this to each other. So you shake your head and click your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"I've already had my way with you after a work-out; that's old news." You're surprised at your confident tone and so it Brittany by the moment of silence she gives you. She hums softly into the phone and your lips curl up into a smirk. You know she's thinking about it.

"I'm bringing snacks for tonight, unless you've made dinner reservations or something?" She sounds curious. Maybe she really wanted something romantic. Crap.

"Um, no, I was thinking we could just watching a movie and eat junk food," you reply timidly.

"Oh thank god," she sighs, "I've had a tiring morning so I'm looking forward to relaxing."

"Awesome," you grin and scratch the tip of your nose, "you can get here anytime."

"Sure thing," Brittany chirps. "Oh and San," you lick your lips as you wait and can almost see the growing smirk on her lips, "tonight's news is going to wet, so don't be afraid to work me out until I can't move."

Your jaw has dropped and you hear the dial tone on your mobile. You lock your phone and throw it on the bed, sighing happily to yourself because you've once again got Brittany wanting you. You don't know how, but you aren't questioning it.

* * *

You've never seen Brittany look more beautiful than she does now. Her hair is in a messy bun and her work shirt is half hanging out of her tight skirt that looks like a bitch to get on. You watch as she struts into your apartment with so much confidence. You really do adore her.

She throws her jacket on the couch and falls back onto it, resting her head back and stretching her arms out. Her head tilts to the side and she looks at you through hooded eyes. "Come here." You're surprised she isn't smirking when she says that, so you assume she just wants to talk or something.

Once you're in front of the couch, you bend to sit but she shakes her head and raises her hand closest to you. "No, here," she claps her thighs together and you understand. After a big gulp you take a step in front of her and climb on top of her so you're straddling her. "That's better," she whispers and now you witness that familiar smirk.

You pinch your lips together and turn your head out of shyness. You can't believe how vulnerable she's making you right now. She's literally overpowering you and she isn't forcing you to do anything. You chose to sit on her instead of cooking the popcorn. "What?" She asks. "You didn't invite me here so we could stare at each other right?" Those words are familiar.

This is too intimate. You're enjoying it, finally.

"Um, music," you splutter out and awkwardly shuffle off her and walk over to your cd player. You're even more embarrassed when you realise you don't have an iPod speaker. You aren't even sure where your iPod is. You haven't played music on this old thing for years, so you're unsure what CD has been sitting in there.

You hit play and wait.

_I'm just bachelor, _

_I'm looking for a partner, _

_Someone who knows how to ride,_

_Without even falling off_

Your eyes immediately bulge out of your skull as you fumble with the buttons to pause, or better yet stop the entire song. Your pointer finger smashes against the pause button but it's not doing anything. You turn around and witness Brittany with a large grin on her face laughing at your flustered state.

_Gotta be compatible,_

_Takes me to my limits,_

_Girl when I break you off,_

_I promise that you won't want to get off_

Once you realise you can just press the eject button that seems to be crusting, you release a sigh and close your eyes. However the music doesn't stop. It's actually being sung now. You turn around slowly and witness Brittany slouching down on the couch like a thug. "If you're horny, let's do it," she clicks, "ride it, my pony." You want her to stop but you don't because Brittany looks so sexy sitting like that and practically moaning out the song lyrics.

She begins to hum the rest of the tune as you walk forward and straddle her once again. Will having sex with her right now ruin things? Is this moving too fast or is it okay? You want to ask Brittany but lately you've been thinking your words rather than voicing them so you don't get into trouble.

But maybe Brittany liked your blunt spontaneity. "Your voice sounds like when you're grating cheese and you make a really smooth slice."

Brittany's eyes narrow and her lips curl. "You think so?" You hesitantly nod. "Awesome." She grabs your hips and lifts you off her, plopping you down on the couch beside her. Did you say something wrong? She doesn't look angry…

She leans forward and grabs a plastic bag from the coffee table. She pours the contents out and your eyes widen at the amount of chocolate and lollies you see. You're more of a savoury girl, so you grab the packet of chips and sit back on the couch.

"What are we watching?"

"Oh," you jump off the couch and look at your shelf of DVD's. You're surprised you don't find any VHS's. You hold three up for Brittany that you think she'll like and she chooses the middle one. You don't remember watching Despicable Me, but you've heard that it's an entertaining film.

"Do you want a drink?" You offer the blonde as she tucks her legs underneath her butt, making herself comfortable.

"I'm fine," she replies, glancing your way with a smile.

As the movie starts, you both stay quiet. You aren't sure what there is to enjoy about it so far, because the main guy is a little nasty. You sound like a 12 year old. Shut up, you mutter inside your mind.

Your lips are starting to become dry, but you don't want to get up because you might miss something important. You figure that Brittany will inform you about it later. You clear your throat as a gate way but Brittany doesn't take her eyes off the television. You stand up and make your way to the kitchen, purposely making your steps a little lighter.

You pour yourself a glass of water and walk quietly back to the couch. Your eyes squint when you notice that Brittany has shifted a little on the couch so you barely have any room to squeeze in. Your head is pounding but it isn't a normal headache. You feel like you're being pulled out of reality as your entire body heats up and you attempt to sit down. Unfortunately nothing goes right and your hands slips from the arm of the couch and your glass of water splashes out onto Brittany's shirt.

"Oh my god," she gasps, bolting upright with her arms outstretched. "That's really cold."

"Fuck I'm sorry," you hiss and place your glass on the table. "I'll get you a clean shirt, god I'm such a fucking idiot."

Brittany laughs beside you. "Santana it's okay," she places a hand on your thigh, blocking any chance you have of getting up. "I can just take this off," she adds calmly.

"What?" You mumble, but you're certain Brittany didn't hear you because she's lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it over the back of the couch. Your eyes fall to the breasts you've seen before but have missed so dearly. You hear her giggle again and meet her gaze. You're not embarrassed, because you want her to know that you appreciate her body.

She slouches back again, but this time one of her legs is bent which makes her skirt bunch up slightly. It looks like it would feel uncomfortable but Brittany isn't cringing. She's watching the television, as you should be doing. You slouch down to her level and are grateful to be wearing pants.

Minutes pass and your eyes are still glued to the television. You've noticed movement out of the corner of your eye but Brittany doesn't seem to be saying anything if she's uncomfortable or bored. Your eyes cautiously flicker left and do a double take. Because her skirt is higher up and both her legs are dangling off the edge of the couch. You swear you can see her panties from this angle.

One of those thoughts enters your mind. The thoughts that keep you wet and unfulfilled at night. The thought of Brittany and you getting it on against every surface in your apartment makes your fingers and lips twitch. Your left hand slowly slides along the inches of space between you and Brittany and continues path along her skirt towards the apex of her thighs. If Brittany has noticed what you're doing, she certainly isn't objecting or saying anything for that matter.

When your fingers skip along her underwear you swear you hear her gasp sharply. Your eyes are no longer focused on the television. All your focus is on making Brittany feel good. You watch as she spreads her legs wide and when you look at her face, her eyes are still watching the screen but her lips are slightly parted.

You press two fingers down where her clit is and her body jolts. You watch her face again. She's biting her lip and staring at you now. She wants it, you can tell with just one look. You twist your body so you don't have to awkwardly reach under her skirt. You use your right hand to lift the fabric up higher and now you can her underwear as clear as day. You also notice the dark, damp patch where her slit is. The fabric of her underwear is so thin that her juices are actually soaking through onto your fingers as you slide them up and down.

"Mm," she whimpers. "You were always so good with your fingers." Her eyes pierce into yours and one of her hands reaches up to play with your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then gliding along your jaw line. You barely register the faint noise of arousal you make until you see the smirk on Brittany's lips.

You're almost about to apologize but then you realise this is what is meant to happen. Very politely you take her hands and place them on her lap and then slide backwards off her so you can sit on your knees. You watch the colour in Brittany's eyes change. You run your nails up and down her inner thighs and she sucks in a deep breath, arching her back and tilting her head in different directions. You want her to be comfortable.

You hook your arms under her thighs and roughly pull her forward just enough so your mouth is inches away from her dripping sex. Brittany's fingers curl over the edge of the couch and dig into the cushion. You can see a faint spot of blood on her bottom lip where she's biting down hard.

About half a minute passes before you lean forward, flatten your tongue against her entrance and run it all the way up to her clit. You hear Brittany choke on a moan but you don't stop. Even through her underwear she tastes good; you forgot her taste surprisingly.

"Wait Santana," she rushes out and your tongue halts at her entrance again.

"What?" You mutter with your tongue halfway out of your mouth. She tugs at your hair and you look up at her.

"I want to take things slow," she whispers, "as much as I want you to eat me out; we have to take things slow. We're only just getting back to the way we were."

"I don't want to be the way we were I want to be the way we are," you counter and Brittany narrows her eyes. "The way we were didn't work out, so I want us to start fresh."

"Well can't we start fresh slowly?" She replies timidly. Your face freezes for a millisecond before breaking out into a grin. As much as you want to stare at Brittany's soaking pussy, you really just want to kiss her right now. So you crawl back up her body and tug on her bottom lip.

"The first step can be meeting your parents," you whisper. She grins and pushes you sideways all of a sudden so she can straddle your lap now. You aren't complaining. The fact that Brittany is that strong turns you on, but you remember you have to go slow so you keep your hands at your sides.

"I can't believe you actually want too," she says with a shy grin. You poke her cheeks because she is the most adorable human being you've ever met.

"Well I actually want to eat you out," you watch her eyebrows rise, "but that can wait." You both share a playful smile and she leans down to plant kisses all over your face. You try to battle her away with your own puckered lips but she's too quick.

Brittany finally stops her attack, leaning back and laughing at your scrunched up expression. Then her face suddenly lights up as she remembers something. "There's a really cool gym in Cleveland," she says nonchalantly.

"Are you saying we get it on in this new gym?" You ask in a serious tone.

"No," she giggles, "well maybe, after you meet my parents."

* * *

Brittany asked you to meet at her apartment at 9. It's now 11 o'clock and you haven't turned on your engine yet. She called you and you answered that you were on your way, but that was half an hour ago. You're surprised she hasn't shown up at your apartment yet.

She sounded agitated on the phone and you hate that you make her feel anything other than happiness and pleasure. You should call her and tell her you can't make it because you want to please people as soon as they ask you for something but hardly ever follow through with it. You suspect she might have left already. Why would she wait for you? Nobody waits for you.

After another few minutes of contemplation, you rev the engine and start driving towards Brittany's apartment. Once you've arrived, you can't believe what you see. Brittany is sitting on the hood of her car, well she was. Now she's marching over to your car and slamming your door open.

"You're late," she hisses, "you let me down again."

You cringe as the venom in her voice. You hate yourself that you keep doing this and you don't know why it keeps happening because you love Brittany so much. "I'm sorry," you murmur.

"You either want to be with me forever, or have me part time and until you make that decision and stick with it then I can't keep doing this."

"Yes you can, you can't give up on us," you try to reason with her but your voice breaks.

"I can give up whenever I want," Brittany yells, "but you keep pulling me back in and that's why I agreed to be friends after you broke my heart. You do something to me Santana, that's why I want you to meet my family and eventually settle down with me. I've never felt this way."

Brittany sounds so defeated you feel like smashing your head against the windscreen until you're unconscious. You can't stand this, you have to leave, you have to get away from Brittany because all you do is hurt her. "I've never felt this way either," you state, before closing the door on the blonde and starting your car. You watch Brittany's face fall and her hands slam against your door. Her yelling is muffled but you can tell she's swearing.

You wind down the window and Brittany's words get lost in her throat as you smile at her. "That's why I'm coming with you, to prove how much I want this."

Brittany's chest is rising and falling and her hands slam against your door once again. But this time a smirk grows on her face. "Follow me."

* * *

Brittany stops once for gas. And you think you'll be able to have a short make out session in her car. But she gives you a stern look and you know exactly what that means. Just because you make her smile doesn't mean you can have more. You need to work on showing up to places on time, because if you make another wrong move then she'll probably get sick of you.

You never want her to get sick of you. You want her to want you to be here, on this trip to her parents' home with her.

"We're taking this slow remember," she reminds you as you lean against her car door.

"This is my fault," you pinch the bridge of your nose, "if I wasn't so indecisive then maybe we would already be in a stable relationship."

"Santana," Brittany says softly, placing her hand on your forearm. "Did you just take responsibility for something? Normally you're so stubborn," she laughs, "when I first met you we both disagreed and agreed on different things."

"Mostly disagreed," you chime in and watch Brittany roll her eyes.

"Well not every couple is perfect," Brittany blurts out and then purses her lips shut. You smirk at her and stretch your arm out so she's able to see the full frame of your body. Your hip is cocked out and Brittany starts to giggle.

"You said we were a couple."

"We don't have to be," she says quickly.

"Fine we won't, but just know that you're mine." You don't know why you're being so protective but by the large grin on Brittany's face you suspect that she likes it.

"I'm yours," she whispers. You lean down and press a firm kiss to her cheek and as you're about to walk back to your car you feel a tug on your arm and you're suddenly being pulled into the car. Brittany grabs your cheeks and presses her lips to yours clumsily. You both giggle as you try to battle for dominance but Brittany is very strong, which you know already, and she grabs your hips so you can barely move.

Her tongue finds its way into your mouth and you suddenly grow shy and turn your head. "Slow," you mutter.

"Sorry," she whispers against your cheek. "Come on we should get going." You grin at her as you step out of the car and walk back to yours. You hear her wolf whistle behind you and that's the first time someone has done that to you. The guy at the café that was flirting with you was a first too. But you're glad Brittany saved you and acted as though you were a couple.

You don't have to act anymore though. You're sure that you want her, you're just not sure that you can give her everything she wants. You're trying though.

It takes a few more hours before you make it to Brittany's parents' house and you're completely unsure of what to say. Will Brittany introduce you as her girlfriend or will it be completely awkward because you aren't official.

You watch a man and a woman exit the suburban home and run over to Brittany's car they obviously recognize. Maybe Brittany didn't tell her parents you were coming. You turn off the engine and step out of the car, watching Brittany as she hugs her mom then her dad and turns to you.

Your smile is reserved and your hands are clasped together as you move towards the Pierce family. You wonder where Sam is, but you just want to get through one family member at a time.

Not sexually of course. Brittany is your one and only.

"Santana," Mrs Pierce says with a tight lipped smile. Crap, she knows you.

"We've hear a lot about you Santana," Mr Pierce cuts in, "it's a shame you and Brittany are no longer together."

You're thrown back completely because you didn't even know they knew about you and Brittany being a couple at all. You internally smile at the thought of Brittany calling her mom and dad and telling them all about you. You hope she didn't tell them how you broke her heart because they might tell you to get back in your car and go home.

"It's nice to finally meet you. Brittany and I are working on our relationship so I hope this weekend goes well." You didn't have to say any of that, because you're sure Brittany's parents know that you're constantly on medication. Lately of course you haven't been, because Brittany is making you better and you can handle yourself.

"We do too," Mrs Pierce replies with a genuine smile this time.

"Where's Sam?" Brittany chimes in.

"He's spending the day with Mercedes, but he'll be here tomorrow before you leave." You nod towards Mr Pierce so you seem interested in the conversation.

"I thought Sam was Brittany's boyfriend when I saw them together," you blurt out.

Both Pierces laugh and Brittany just shakes her head. You're afraid you embarrassed her but then she gives you a grin and punches your shoulder lightly. "We thought out of all people you knew Brittany is a lesbian."

You turn to Mrs Pierce and start to blush. Of course you knew; you were just too stupid to realise at that moment. You saw Brittany with someone else and you jumped to conclusions that obviously weren't true. You not only need to prove yourself to Brittany, but also her parents – both of which are staring at you oddly.

"Let's go inside," Brittany chirps, taking your hand and pulling you towards the door.

* * *

After Brittany gave you a tour of her parents' home and you were instructed to put your things in the guest room, you all sit by the fire and wait for hot chocolate, which is apparently her mother's speciality.

Brittany is sleeping in her old room and you're in the guest room. You have let that sink in as you sit beside Brittany on the two seater couch in front of the fireplace. Brittany's fingers are tickling the side of your foot over your socks as she listens to her dad talk passionately about the NFL draft picks.

It's not that you aren't into football, you just really would rather listen to Brittany talk. But you realise that to have Brittany, you must hear her family out as well. They are being lovely to you so you stay silent until they ask you questions.

Mrs Pierce walks in with two hot chocolates and hands one to you. "Thank you so much," you say, pulling your sleeves down and cupping the mug. Unfortunately you sip too quickly because you just wanted to tell Mrs Pierce how well she makes hot chocolate. Most of the liquid ends up on your shirt and you bolt upwards, almost bowling Mrs Pierce over in the process.

Brittany gasps beside you and rushes you over to the stairs. "We'll be right back," she tells her parents.

"Are you alright dear?" You hear Mr Pierce ask. You shout back that you will be okay as Brittany guides you into the bathroom. She pulls your shirt off and throws it in the sink. She then grabs a small towel and wets it before patting it against your chest.

"How does that feel?" She asks softly.

"I'm an idiot," you reply, "I'm ruining this weekend."

Brittany laughs. "No you aren't Santana. We've barely been here a day and you're doing fine."

"Your parents probably think I'm crazy," you murmur. Brittany stops patting the towel against your skin and just stares at you with her head slightly tilted sideways.

"Where was this Santana when I met you months ago?" She asks. "Why couldn't you have been like this before?"

"Did you not like me before?"

"I loved you before," she answers instantly. "I just wish you would have been nice to me, that's all."

You sigh in defeat. "I'm so sorry Brittany. You have to know that when I met you it was so unexpected. I didn't plan to fall for you so quickly and then leave you just as fast. I was searching so hard for someone to just want me and love that when you showed up unexpectedly I didn't feel like I deserved you."

"You need to start believing in yourself like I believe in you Santana," Brittany responds gently. You gulp and step forward so the front of your body is almost flush against Brittany's.

"Still want to take things slow?"

"Why?"

"You just make me really happy and when you say things like that I just want to kiss you." You tuck your lips into your mouth because you're sure Brittany won't let you kiss her in her parents' bathroom. You didn't come to Cleveland to make out with Brittany. You just want to prove to her that you could meet her parents and not act weird. Even though you've already managed to spill her mother's famous hot chocolate on yourself.

Brittany's lips twitch but she doesn't say anything. You take her silence as a yes Santana, you can kiss me. So you tilt your head up and part your lips slightly. When you graze your lips against her bottom one, Brittany lets out a whimper. You breathe out a laugh and pull back.

"Your parents wouldn't want me doing this to their daughter," you say quietly. Brittany's eyes remain closed as she nods, humming as an answer. You tangle your fingers with hers and pull her out of the bathroom with you. When you're back in the living room with Brittany's parents, they give you a weary look.

At first you wonder why, but then a breeze comes in the room from the window and it hits you hard. Your eyes widen and Brittany immediately steps in front of you. "Oh my god," you murmur.

Mrs Pierce giggles. "Brittany should have some spare shirts in her old room."

"Goodnight girls," Mr Pierce says, walking passed you both and awkwardly kissing Brittany on her temple as you're glued behind her. Once both adults have left and you hear the door to their bedroom shut, Brittany leads you back upstairs and hands you a clean shirt, even though she knows you brought clothes with you. You're happy you get to wear her clothes though.

"I want to respect your parents, so I'm going to head to bed," you say reluctantly.

"Alright," Brittany whispers, leaning in to peck your lips. You grin at her and skip across the hall towards your room.

/

You check the time and realise you've been lying in bed awake for two hours. You're unaware if Brittany's awake or not because you can't hear anything outside this room. It takes a lot of courage for you to get out of bed and walk out of the room towards Brittany's. You slowly open her bedroom door and her head instantly turns towards you.

Both of you share a smile and you walk inside, shutting the door behind you. You stand at the foot of the bed and decide whether or not this is a good idea.

You're indecisive.

You told Brittany you didn't want to disrespect her parents and now you're about to climb into bed with her. You could just cuddle though, that wouldn't be a big deal. You've never been one to cuddle though, but maybe Brittany can teach you.

Placing your palms on the bed first, you begin to crawl on top of Brittany. She leans up slightly and bites her bottom lip. You raise a hand a brush the blonde hair out of her face. "I shouldn't be here," you whisper.

"Why not? You're my girlfriend."

"Am I?" You question.

She nods. "Yeah, if you want to be… actually," she grins, "you don't have a choice."

"I don't want a choice," you reply confidently before leaning down and capturing her lips. You inhale deeply through your nose as Brittany's hands rest on your hips. She suddenly grips you harder and flips you over so you're on your back.

You gasp as you hit the soft surface and Brittany wastes no time in kissing you again. Her tongue dives between your lips and you moan. You're leaning against the headboard slightly causing your neck to hurt, but Brittany's kisses seem to be taking away the pain.

She leans back up, breaking the kiss and you notice for the first time that she is only wearing underwear and a loose tank top. You don't want to waste time either, so you slide a hand between her legs and her palms cup both your breasts. Her back arches a little and her eyes flutter shut as she grinds on top of your hand.

"Ugh," she groans, moving her body in a circular motion. You feel your fingers becoming soaked as her heat generates through her underwear. You moan again as she squeezes your breasts.

Suddenly you become predatory, because you haven't had Brittany for so long and you want to be with her in every possible way so badly. You slide your hand under her panties and run your fingers down her dripping folds. She humps forward and back slowly and you slip one finger inside of her causing her to freeze up for a moment.

A moan shakes out of her throat and her eyebrows dip. Her tongue moistens her upper lip and it turns you on even more so you slip another finger inside her and pump hard. "Santana," she whines and it's the sexiest thing you've ever heard. Your teeth grind together as you pump faster into her and watch her body violently convulse on top of you.

The wetness pouring down your fingers makes it easier for you to go deep and once you've reached that spot, Brittany's eyes pop open and she collapses on top of you writhing in pleasure. "Fuck," she whispers.

You wrap your arms around her. You've never held somebody like this.

You remember when you left her that note and she left you one back. She not only stole your crackers that day, she stole your heart.

* * *

The following morning you meet Sam and he's very nice to you despite you blurting out once again that you thought he and Brittany were on a date.

You know how to make things awkward fast, but Brittany doesn't mind. You love her and you tell her that every hour. She enjoys it because she's always wanted someone to confess something so often to her.

You're glad you made her feel pleasure last night and that you make her feel happy when you tell her you love her. That's all you wanted. You're getting better. And you won't ruin this, because Brittany is your soul mate, your saviour, your angel. You wish you had a camera so you can take a photo of Brittany, put it in your purse and take it with you everywhere.

You owe her so much love, because you don't have to take your medication anymore. You thought this entire time that you should take time away from her to get better but it was her that made you better you just didn't realise. You aren't numb, you aren't spontaneous and you aren't single. In fact, you think you just asked Brittany to marry you because her parents are calling out 'group hug'.

_The End._

* * *

**authors note: **thank you so much for reading this strange angsty fic of mine. I wrote this to simply explore a new style so if you weren't fond of it then that it absolutely fine, in fact I probably won't write like this again. Grill The Heart to Medium Rare should be out in a few days hopefully, thank you all for being kind and patient and please leave a review if you can.


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